A Comedy of Errors
by It'sTimeToDance
Summary: AU. Henry Swan has never thought his mother to be dangerous. But that's exactly what she becomes, when a mysterious, beautiful creature is suddenly yearning for her--and his--blood.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_"I walked down to the other end of the day,  
Just to catch those last few waves,  
I held out my hand and slowly waved goodbye,  
I turn now my eyes up to the sky"_

_-_"Alone," Alice in Chains

I leaned against the bathroom wall and crossed my left arm over my elbow, blinking at the little white stick. It stared at me, the one little blue dot, mocking me with it's bluntness. It started to blur away, and I impatiently wiped away a stray tear.

This was...unexpected.

The dorm lights flickered for the fifth time that hour. I felt like I should have been panicked, or upset, or hysterical. I didn't feel anything, though, except nauseous and over worked. My hands shook, and my feet were suddenly cold against the tiled floors of the dorm bathroom.

"Swan!" a girl shouted from the other end of the door, "Some people have classes to get to!"

I glanced at it, the little white stick with the bright blue dot, and touched my stomach. Something was _inside of me_. Something was growing and living and waiting for me too take care of it.

Nineteen and pregnant. Renee would love that.

"Bella!" another girl shouted, and the sound of fist on the wooden door interrupted my mantra, "Get the _fuck _out of there! I'm gonna be late!"

I'd already counted Jared out of the deck, before I'd even taken the test. He was not a commitment guy. He smoked and drank and collected state fines like ten year olds collect baseball cards. He would not do anything, not for me, or for this baby--this _thing. _This thing. This _baby. _

"Bella!"

"I'm almost done!" I countered, combing hair from my face and slipping on the college sweatshirt that aways lay over the shower rods. I'd felt a sigh come from the tip of my throat, a hopeless release of air that carried the rest of my sanity out with it.

I was nauseous.

My hand shook as it turned the door knob, and I barely dodged the onslaught of girls rushing to the showers, shouting and cursing at me as I worked my way back towards the dorm rooms.

Edward was gone, he wasn't coming back. This baby was the end of it, the end of us. I had nothing left of him, and he had nothing left of me. This kid was--literally--the period to that sentence.

"Well," I whispered to my stomach, closing the door to my room and leaning against the wall, "looks like it's you and me."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, hate to break it too you, folks, but turns out BELLA'S CAPABLE OF HAVING SEX WITHOUT BEING PINNED TO AN ALLEY WALL!

She is capable of fucking, she is capable of getting pregnant, and--as you will discover soon--she is capable of birthing BOYS!

I just really wanted to diminish this cliche. It hurts my head. I'll continue if you like it.

Special thanks to my HOMEDOG Swing Girl At Heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Half Clouded**

I tapped my spoon against the cracked porcelain bowl, half filled with soggy cereal and milk. My mother rushed around the kitchen, throwing pots in the sink with a decided fluency while putting together a loosely compiled gathering of papers on the counter top. It was, in all honestly, rather exhausting to watch.

"And I won't be home until seven, so..." She trailed off, and looked up at me. Her brown eyes were highlighted with dark purple shadows, her pale skin gaunt as her face twisted irritatedly, "Are you even _listening?"_

I smiled at her, running a hand through my hair, "In and out."

Her shoulders fell, and she gathered the papers in a chipped leather case that had to be at least fifty years old, "Why do you _insist _on making things difficult?"

Her hair was dark brown, and it fell around her face in heavy shags, giving her the look of someone who rarely washed herself. Pallid white skin peaked out from under a white blouse that hung from her shoulders like a tent.

I didn't look like her, really. We had the same hair, the same pale skin, but that was it. Her eyes were a deep, wary brown, while mine were this unsettling shade of blue that was normally associated with the blind.

I stretched my fingers around the corner of the table, the nails laid to waste somewhere in the depths of my skin, "You know it's the only thing I'm good at."

She stopped, for only a moment, and her lips twitched.

The only view through the kitchen window was a gray city and a cloudy sky. When no one spoke, TV's weren't on, music was off, and it would have been silent, you could still hear the beeping of late night drivers and laughter of drunken partygoers, making for many restless nights.

The kitchen was covered with dirty plates and half-filled paperwork that no one seemed to realize was there until a neighbor pointed them out.  
Mom poured another cup of cold coffee and turned to me, "I need you to pick up milk after school. I left some money in the drawer under the counter, and, for God's sake, Henry, _please _bring back change. I don't want to see you chewing six packs of gum when I get home."

I gave a slight indication that I was half listening, and she continued.

"You did all your homework, right? I've been getting calls from your teachers, and I _really _don't need you failing out of school right now."  
"It's all done," I said, spilling the cereal down the sink and glimpsing at the clock, "Your gonna be late."

She choked on a mouthful of coffee as she scrambled to her open leather case, forcing the rusty hinges shut and running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it.

I handed her the keys to the car - more like a tin can on wheels - and she kissed me on the cheek, muttering a mantra of curses and berates, "God, I'm so late, Henry, remember the milk. Don't skip any classes, I'll be home by seven. If you get hungry, there's some of those microwave dinners somewhere in the freezer. Make sure - God, I am _late!_"I stood where I was until I heard the click of the door opening, "Bye, honey!"  
The door slammed shut. I whispered to the empty air, "Bye."

I leaned against the counter for a minute, my arms crossed against my chest and my hair blocking my face from the scarce sunlight, before swinging my backpack over my shoulder and moving towards the door.

XXX

I don't see myself as much of a looker. I have chalky, pallid skin that stood in thick contrast to my dark, greasy hair. My eyes were only lightened in comparison, and they were almost white behind my pupil. When I walk down the street, people feel the need to point out this discrepancy. Some asked me if I needed help down across a walkway. One women followed me up the stairs, as though she were afraid I would suddenly spasm and fall too my death. Sometimes it was amusing. Sometimes it was annoying. Very, very annoying.

For this fact alone, it was not immediately odd that a girl followed me for five blocks, ten feet behind me and moving with the grace of a ballet dancer. At first, it was a coincidence. Three blocks later, I figured she thought I was blind or something of the like. Now, after I'd clearly proven my sight was existent after narrowly avoiding an oncoming bus, she still followed. It was unsettling.

I live at least nine blocks from my school, a twenty-minute walk. Ten if I caught a bus, which was a rarity. There was another school only a few minutes away from the apartment, but my mother thought it was too "dangerous". I'd pointed out that there were metal detectors in the entrance. She had looked at me cross-eyed and told me to do my homework.

Right now, I really wish I went to that school.

My feet were sore from my little power-walking session, and I looked for my leave of exit. Turning down an alleyway was like signing your own death warrant, and the traffic was ongoing, so I couldn't cross the street.

I glanced at my watch and, in this little pursuit, I had managed to make myself twenty minutes late for school.

Fantastic.

My feet reacted before I did, stopping short and planting me to the spot. I craned my neck until I could barely see her in the side of my vision, a black and white blur. She—

Wasn't there.

I spun my heels so my torso was twisting away from my legs, frantically snapping my head from side to side. She...was...right...there...  
"Shit..." I breathed. I began to walk, sort of a sideways trot, with my stomach in all kinds of knots.

I was never one to panic. I actually prided myself in how levelheaded I usually was. I was the last to become distressed in situations, and I _liked _to think this meant I was rather intelligent.

This was, however, a tad alarming.

I looked at my watch again. It was the end homeroom, start of first period. I could run--

_Bam_

I went flying back as a mountainous force slammed into my back. I collided with the alley wall I had inconveniently found myself besides, my head clacking like shivering teeth with the corner. Hands, I realized – like iron vices against my shoulders – squeezed into my skin, and I slid down onto the pavement. Stars flew in clumps around me, and the breath left my lungs with a yelp. I could barely see him, the creature. He looked like a man--no, a boy--hardly older then me. His hair was like the smoothest rust I had ever seen, and his skin was like paper, flawless in it's white, pallid beauty. His features were sculpted like some kind of Greek statue, distorted by a fierce, hungered grimace. His eyes were like black holes, with only the slightest specks of gold coloring the endless pupils. The whites seemed to blend in with the rest of his skin. His teeth were bared, hissing whistles of breath slipping out through the thin gaps like wind through a cheese grater. His nostrils flared.

A monster, I concluded. A hideously beautiful alien monster. He would kill me. He would bite my face off. He would snap my neck like a toothpick. This was it. I was dead. I was dead._ I was dead._

Mom would be alone.

The image of her crying--from my grandmother's funeral, I remember--was like a hazy cloud of images in my frantic stream of thoughts.

I was dead.

The monster, though, he seemed to freeze.

His black eyes bugged out, and a sense of humanity seemed to overwhelm him. His features softened, and his grip loosened--barely. I was still positive bones were breaking under his palms. I digress.

My heart thudded wildly inside my chest, and my breath was more like a whimpering release of air I couldn't find. His neck craned, his head leaned closer, as though he couldn't understand what he was seeing. His eyes flashed on and off.

"My God," he whispered, more to himself, "You look just like her."

_

* * *

_

**_A/N Cliff-hanger? Me? Naaaaw. Review, I guess. I'm curious how much this sucks (or doesn't. You never know.)_**


	3. AN

Hey, guys. Sorry I haven't updated anything in...well, in a while. I've taken a break from writing for a while. I'm starting my freshman year of high school this year, and I really need to get my shit together. This is gonna be mass-posted, so I'll post my individual messages for each story:

The Unfortunate Truth: I started this when I was twelve, so needless to say I've grown a bit since then. I do have the entire things plotted out in my head, and one day I do intend to finish, but for now consider this on indefinite hold.

Gone Baby Gone: This one I actually almost finished with. I typed most of it on my friend's computer, so it might take a while to get to it...but still. I'll get there.

It's Kind of a Funny Story: I feel really guilty about this one, because I promised myself I'd finish it...Anyway. I'll probably finish this during my next fanfiction binge.

Invasion: I SHOULD BE DOING THIS! This was meant as a comic relief, something to do when I'm bored...I'm bored SO OFTEN! I SHOULD WORK ON THIS! Feel free to cyber-smack me.

Soliloquy: I seriously wrote all the stories for this but, again, on friend's computer.

Playing With Fire: Consider this one up for adoption.

Remaining: Will finish during next binge. I actually like this one.

A Comedy of Errors: No one seems to care much for this one, so consider it dropped till further notice.

The Awkward Kind: Not feeling this one, I have to say. I pictured in my head a John Hughes like angsty romance with a tragic end, but, well...I'm not John Hughes.

No Such Things: This is completly out of my comfort zone and I have no idea why I started it. Up for adoption.

Also, I have a few stories in the works...all Twilight, aparently. Two are AU and one's a three-shot for New Moon. Again, I consider fanfiction like drinking: if your not addicted, you only do it when your unhappy. I am not addicted, and I'm pretty content at the moment. As you all know, I tend to have time periods where I update at a ridiculous pace, and then long stretches of time where I do nothing. Rest assured, however, I will not be content forever and as soon as I'm engulfed in an overwhelming wave of depression, most of these stories will be updated, if not finished. And I will post the new stories I have for Twilight. And we will all live happily every after.

The End


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